


Oral overload

by adelaide_rain



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelaide_rain/pseuds/adelaide_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames gets his tongue pierced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oral overload

Arthur's laptop is open and he's waist-deep in boring research (boring even to him, nothing can make these endless figures about paper thickness interesting) when Eames walks in. It's been two weeks since Eames left to track the man he's to forge; for Arthur that’s meant two weeks alone in a king-size bed, and the luxury of being able to stretch out had gotten old within a few hours.

The rest of the team is in the warehouse and Arthur prefers to keep work and his personal life separate, though working with the man he’s fucking does not help with that. Like now: Arthur burns to go over there and bite Eames’s earlobe and whisper the litany of things Arthur will do to him once they get back to their room. But that’s the height of unprofessional, and Arthur always strives for professionalism in the workplace – he has to because most of the people he works with don’t seem to know what the word means.

He’s about to turn his attention back to his dull, dull work when Eames licks his lips.

Eames licking his lips is obscene at any time. There have been several times that Eames has quite innocently (or so he claims) ran his tongue over his lips while at work, and this causes some kind of malfunction in Arthur’s brain. It’s really quite embarrassing; any higher brain function just seems to switch off and Arthur has to drag Eames off somewhere private for a blow job or he’ll stare blankly at his computer screen all afternoon, and nothing pisses Arthur off more than lost productivity.

If they’re working with Cobb, it’s not an issue: Cobb just squints at them and pointedly doesn’t ask questions the next day. But when their colleagues don’t know them as well – like now – it’s not just unprofessional, it’s dangerous. The less people that know about their relationship, the safer they are.

But it’s not just the pink tongue running over plush lips this time. Arthur is _sure_ there was something that looked suspiciously like a flash of metal.

He wants to push the thought away. Would like to think that Eames wouldn’t get his tongue pierced on a whim, in the middle of a job. But he’s gotten impulsive tattoos before – tattoos that took hours of work – so a piercing is comparatively sensible.

There is no possible way that Arthur is going to be able to push this to the back of his mind for the rest of the day, especially the way Eames keep smirking at him in that infuriatingly sexy way he has.

He shuts the laptop.

“Mr Eames,” he says, keeping his voice even as he rises. “I’d like to hear your report on Cuthbert.” He gestures at the small office at the back of the warehouse, which is mostly being used to store paper of a variety of thicknesses for this ridiculous job.

Eames shuts the door behind them and Arthur turns to tell him exactly what he thinks of his distraction tactics. He doesn’t get any further than opening his mouth before Eames steps forward and kisses him.

 _Fucking hell._

Arthur can feel the hard metal bar in the midst of the soft wetness of Eames’s tongue as it strokes against his and it goes straight to his cock. He wasn’t expecting to find it so fucking hot, but he does, it’s just so – different- so-

It’s too hard to think so he kisses back, thrusting his tongue into Eames’ mouth. The flesh of the tongue gives but the metal doesn’t, and Arthur grabs Eames’s ass with both hands to bring them closer together, because he wants to touch as much of Eames as he can, presses the whole length of their bodies against one another. Eames is half-hard already, probably has been since he stepped off the plane and started to plan this, because tormenting Arthur seems to be his biggest turn-on. But Arthur is not about to be one-upped. He grinds their hips together until Eames moans into his mouth, until the friction makes pleasure seep through them, and Arthur promises himself that after this, he is going to take Eames back to the hotel and cuff him to the bed and then fuck him until he screams and the neighbours have to call reception to complain about them.

And then Arthur’s leg hits a stacked column of paper and he remembers that they’re still at work. As his cheeks break into an instant blush, he pushes Eames away, glaring at him and trying to regain control of his breathing. Eames is distracting at the best of times but this is ridiculous. In the years they have been together Arthur has never been so fucking distracted that he almost rubbed off against Eames _in the office_.

“What the fuck, Eames?” Arthur asks, for so, so many reasons.

“Do you like it?” Eames asks, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“What in hell were you thinking?”

Eames just raises an eyebrow and leans against the wall. He’s completely cool and Arthur hates him for it because he can still feel his cheeks burning. “I had to do it, to stay in character. Cuthbert was getting his nipple pierced so I went along for moral support.”

Arthur ignores his insistent blush and fixes Eames with his best glare. “There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I don’t even know where to start. First, Jonathan Cuthbert is the most boring man alive. His idea of sexy is 250 gsm paper in brilliant white. He is one of the least likely people in the world to get a fucking nipple piercing. Second, why would he ask the PA that has worked for him for less than a month to go with him to the piercing studio? You-”

“Maybe he fancied me,” Eames interrupts and gives a sly grin. “It would be a hell of a first date, wouldn’t it?”

“Jesus christ, Eames,” Arthur says, and covers his eyes with his hand. Why does he put up with Eames again?

“Now, the sad news is that I won’t be able to show you whether a blowie with a tongue piercing feels any better until it’s healed properly. Should be a week or so. Until then I’m afraid you’ll just have to use your imagination.”

“You are a complete and total bastard, do you realise that?”

In response Eames sticks his tongue out at him, and Arthur can’t help but stare at the silver ball in the middle of it.

“Now,” Eames says, pulling his clothes straight. “I’m sure that other members of our team genuinely do want my report on Cuthbert, so if you’ll excuse me.”

After one last smirk, Eames leaves and Arthur sinks onto a pile of glossy photo paper and puts his head in his hands. His love affair with Eames’s tongue just got more complicated.


End file.
